


picked you out, shook you up

by sungchanery



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Awkward Dates, Fluff and Humor, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Promises For Later, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, a pair of really messed up pants involved, also, poor yeojin men suck, they're both really gay and really horny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27776506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungchanery/pseuds/sungchanery
Summary: To Sungchan, Donghyuck appears perfectly capable of carrying out a mischievous plan right under everyone’s nose.Or, right under everyone’s tables, for that matter.
Relationships: Jung Sungchan/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Comments: 20
Kudos: 189





	picked you out, shook you up

**Author's Note:**

> [tips hat] hello 2chan nation! 
> 
> this is my contribution to the new cultural institution that 2chan is; these boys are up for mischief and i'm _here_ to write all about it!
> 
> this was caused by sungchan, this mysterious boy, telling the radio host that hyuck is his favorite hyung — taking care of him, playing with him, being the cutest in the room .... and hyuck, of course, not pleased, just said that well, he has to teach sungchan better than that 
> 
> in this fic, i guess he does? in his own way :D 
> 
> a big thank you to [lua](https://twitter.com/pinkhrj) for ALWAYS being here with me in nct ficdom and listening to my endless yapping and [mari](https://twitter.com/kuns_dimples) for betaing everything i produce, Ever .
> 
> hope you enjoy!!!

“Oh, this soup is great! Do you like, uhm—soup?”

Sungchan loves soup. He likes miso soup, especially when it comes with little, floating cubes of tofu and he likes it when his mom makes him seaweed soup for his birthday. The one he has in front of him — sweet corn; thick, viscous — is really good, too. So, when Yeojin asks him if he likes it, he can’t help but nod, flashing her a small smile and bringing another spoonful to his lips, blowing it before he eats it and giving her a small — well, big, considering that his thumb is three times bigger than hers — thumbs up.

When the waiter brought the soup, the entrée of the night, Sungchan made a mistake. He looked up at him, at the boy who effortlessly balanced two bowls of steaming soup on a tray larger than his forearm, and smiled up at him — the same little, sealed-lip smile he just now gave to his date, polite and reserved. Yeojin smiled back; but the waiter didn’t. 

The waiter winked instead; eyeshadow shimmering on the outer corner of his eye and his lashes long — not that Sungchan had the time to notice, not really — and honey blond, just like his hair, fluttering for a moment before his corn soup was placed in front of him, starch laced steam hitting his face. Yeojin didn’t notice it, not with her eyes on the food and Sungchan felt a tinge of relief when he caught her plucking the longest breadstick out of the bunch while the waiter was busy making his knees weak. And while she was munching happily on the crunchy bread, the waiter, not without a clue of a smile on his plump — again, not that Sungchan was _staring_ — lips, left them alone with a sing-song “enjoy your meal, the rest are coming right away.” 

Sungchan made a mistake back then and he makes a second one right now. As he’s swallowing his soup in peace, his eyes fall on the boy once more; he is wearing a suit vest and a tie, matching those of his coworkers but on him, at least to Sungchan, it looks different. It looks like he is wearing it and they’re not wearing _him;_ he seems young but his surroundings match him well. Almost _too_ well, and the blob of soup nearly drips down the wrong pipe when Sungchan sees the boy loosen the knot of his necktie, his eyes on him and the smile from before widening and leaning on the smirk side. 

“Oh—Sungchan, are you okay?” 

Yeojin drops her spoon to tend to him and his ridiculous coughing fit, handing him a napkin that he gratefully accepts in order to hide his embarrassment and his slowly but steadily reddening face behind the chili sauce and lip tint stained cloth. It smells fruity and a bit spicy, just like her when he first hugged her minutes ago — “Your heart’s loud; mine’s too,” she told him after they let go, cheeks tinted like her lips and her head barely reaching his ribs — and it violently brings him back to where his head should be right now. 

He is a man on a mission tonight, a mission brought to him by no other than his lovely, older sister who thought that her friend is probably the only one that scratches off every box in the Sungchan Ideal Significant Other bingo. He can’t say no to Sooyoung to save his life so here he is, choking on soup and on the idea of long fingers on places other than knotted silk; places that may or may not be on someone’s body that may or may not be his. This forces another strained cough out of his throat and this time Yeojin pushes her water glass towards him, the same lip stain that’s on her napkin sitting faded on the rim. It smells _and_ tastes fruity, Sungchan notes, but even though this should be sending all kinds of thoughts in his brain — thoughts of tasting the cherries off the source, of _kissing_ them off her lips — Sungchan’s head is a cinema with only _one_ screening; the plump lips of the boy that is now laughing on his accord across the hall. 

The main course doesn’t go better than the first and Sungchan can’t really choose between this being a good or a bad thing, not really. Yeojin is adorable; there is no use denying it. His sister was absolutely right; she is bright and kind and she doesn’t like beans, which means Sungchan can eat everything she pushes off her plate. It’s the olive theory Lily and Marshall talked about in that one episode of How I Met Your Mother Sungchan binged for the fourth time the other day; he likes beans, she hates them and that makes them perfect for each other. The puzzle piece completing the picture. 

There are two pictures in Sungchan’s mental photo book, though, and while he is digging in his orange and lemon chicken — sweet but tangy, damn, he should really ask Yeojin if they do deliveries, Jisung will love it — he looks at the first one, all shiny and whole, just to flip the page and reveal the other. Pieces are missing from every little spot on the boy’s body that Sungchan stared at and wished he could become familiar with — _Donghyuck,_ he fills the gap, his boss calling him from the kitchen when an order got delayed or something else that Sungchan’s ear didn’t manage to catch — and others are blurred, like his eyes, and his lips and those fingers he really got quite a satisfying look at but still wasn’t enough for his brain lens to focus on and snap the image, hook line and sinker. 

“And that’s how we ended up with our skirts pink instead of white,” Yeojin laughs from the other side of the table, licking the dan dan noodle sauce off the ends of her chopsticks. Sungchan knows the story, his sister babbling whenever she gets all drunk and giddy without any filter or care of Sungchan’s interests, but like he lets her repeat it again and again, he does the same with Yeojin. 

His reaction is sincere but practiced and it seems to placate her, if her goofy smile and her happily fishing out the peanuts and placing them on Sungchan’s rice is anything to go by. He doesn’t really mind; he likes spice and he likes peanuts and his rice is not bland anymore, but as time goes by and his eyes keep wandering, Donghyuck’s own doing the same and finding his over plates of food and loads of drinks, he can’t help but feel worse and worse about the situation his mistakes brought him in.

Speaking of mistakes, the third and last one isn't his doing.

“Oh my, I’m so, _so_ sorry!”

All eyes are on Sungchan while his thighs burn from the warm sake spilled all over them and Donghyuck is right above him, sending another kind of scorch up on his cheeks. Yeojin seems to be way more worried than anyone else around, dainty fingers cupping her face and painted on eyebrows furrowed under her bangs in surprise. With a single glance on his new jeans Sungchan is worried too; and that makes Donghyuck the only person that looks almost delighted by the situation. 

“I’m so sorry, sir, are you okay? That was hot,” he frets, tone faux apologetic and it seems to fool everyone else but Sungchan. He looks up and Donghyuck’s eyes are bright, like they are whenever someone has mischief in mind. To Sungchan, Donghyuck appears perfectly capable of carrying out a mischievous plan right under everyone’s nose. 

Or, right under everyone’s tables, for that matter. 

“I’m—I’m okay, really, it’s no big d—”

“It doesn’t look okay, I've made a mess, _sir,”_ Donghyuck argues, reaching out for a bunch of paper towels from the dispenser on the table and — on God, he does that, Sungchan can’t believe his eyes — falling on his knees right between Sungchan’s legs. He picks up the discarded pitcher, now void of sake and thankfully intact, putting it on the table before he looks up at Sungchan with false penitence, bracketed by long, sake damp thighs. “Lemme make it right, please? I insist."

And, oh, does he try to make it right. The bunched up napkins meet the dark stains with every pat of Donghyuck’s on them, soaking up lukewarm sake and Sungchan’s soul right off his body with it. He is meticulous, making sure not to miss a single spot — from Sungchan’s knee to the inner part of his thighs where the rough seam of his jeans is digging in his skin and, _God,_ too close to the part that _actually_ brings Sungchan shame right now apart from the huge splotches of wetness on his crotch. 

He wishes he wasn’t in the middle of one of the most crowded diners in the area, takes a second to plead every celestial being for mercy, to ask for those two inches Sungchan _needs_ Donghyuck to wipe, right where he wants to be wet, under his jeans and not where everyone can see. Only where the boy between his legs, now full on smirking up at him, can. 

Donghyuck knows; of course he does, because right before Sungchan's wishes become true, he backs away and in a moment he's towering over him like Sungchan isn't at all used to, retrieving the sake bottle he almost broke and slightly bowing to both him and Yeojin in apology, his eyebrows mirroring those of hers for a moment.

"I'm sorry, once again, for ruining your lovely dinner," Donghyuck turns to a startled Yeojin and shakes her out of her worried reverie. "If it's of any help, I can try making up for it." 

Yeojin sputters about the hows and whys Donghyuck needs to do no such thing, shaking her hands in polite denial and offering him one of her blinding, honest smiles that Sungchan has been the recipient of for the last two hours. Donghyuck, though, is unwavering; claiming that he really, _really_ feels sorry, that _no,_ he feels _obliged_ to help out. Everyone's eyes leave them sooner or later, except for maybe those of Donghyuck's boss, and Sungchan now realises why Donghyuck keeps being overeager. It all makes sense, and it kind of makes disappointment settle in the pit of Sungchan's stomach.

"It's nothing much, I swear," he reflects the genuine smile and shoots it right back, starting to soothe Yeojin's worries. She throws a glance at a still very messy and very flustered Sungchan, and he can't help but smile back at her too, a nod of the head the only thing Yeojin needs to let Donghyuck speak. "I happen to have spare pants in my locker, that's all. If…"

"Sungchan," Yeojin provides.

"Right, if _Sungchan_ wants to, he can come and borrow it. I'll be waiting in the back, right behind that door," Donghyuck points across the dining hall and next to the double doors that lead to the kitchen, a heavy strip curtain separating the break room from the customer allowed area. Sungchan follows Donghyuck's finger with his eyes and gulps, thinking about all the implications his offer includes, all the mistakes that led _here._ Yeojin doesn't seem to think about this at all, since the already existing smile on her mouth suddenly takes up half of her little face, evident relief painted on her cute features.

"That _does_ sound helpful, right, Sungchan? If you do that, I can just wait and we'll take the dessert on the go."

"That would be no issue," Donghyuck's boss suddenly joins the conversation, arm looping around Donghyuck's shoulders in a familiar and almost _proud_ way, like he saved the day, and his smile is almost _too_ polite for comfort. "While you're getting ready with Donghyuck, we can prepare everything you need. It's on us, you don't need to worry about anything else."

"Way to _go,_ boss!" Donghyuck chirps and that gains him a tight squeeze of his arm under which he whimpers seemingly in pain. He pouts at his boss, who pays him no mind other than pulling Donghyuck closer to him, keeping him on a leash, a silent threat. Sungchan feels sorry for the guy, but he has other issues to worry about, a bit bigger than the boy's problems and most certainly _also_ caused by him. 

"So, what do you say? It's okay, right?" The man coaxes Sungchan and under everyone's expectant gaze and the denim clinging uncomfortably on his skin he caves in.

"Okay, _okay,_ I'll—yeah, thank you. We can do that, that's really kind of you, sir. Kind of, uhm—both of you." 

It seems to be the right decision, given by the simultaneous sighs of both Yeojin's and the restaurant owner's and Sungchan gets up after reassuring his date that it's okay if she is the one to choose the dessert this time around. That's his way of telling her that yes, there _will_ be another date, one that Sungchan won't make a complete fool out of himself and somewhere completely devoid of any kind of Donghyuck or soup or warm sake to mess with him and his chances for success.

Donghyuck, the man of the hour, doesn't sigh, doesn't react; he keeps up the smirk he hasn't let drop his face all this time he was addressing Sungchan and makes way for him to walk where he gestured at earlier, all proper and waiter-y, like he didn't just propose giving Sungchan his clothes after almost prodding on his embarrassing, excuse of half-hard cock ten minutes ago.

Sungchan takes a deep breath, long legs bee lining around the tables, heading to where he will have to spend the most awkward and frustrating ten minutes of his entire teen _and_ young adult life before he feels warm tightness around his wrist and his whole body changing course without him wanting to. 

The next thing he feels is wood on his back — wait, is this the bathroom? It has to be — and Donghyuck crowding his space, all short, rushed huffs and lust drizzled smiles, while his hand reaches behind Sungchan's back to cause what Sungchan thinks is the click of a lock. 

"We don't have much time," he breathes out, palms splayed on the cold wood but not on Sungchan, not yet. Sungchan, not so surprisingly, finds himself almost disappointed by that. 

"I think—I think I know what's going on but, just to be sure, you're talking about—well, probably _not_ giving me a pair of pants, right? _Please_ tell me I'm right." 

The eagerness in his voice makes Sungchan nearly wince; and Donghyuck snorts, a loud, unattractive sound that doesn't make Sungchan's insides burn any less. 

"You're really, _really_ right," Donghyuck confirms with a side smile and a glance on where Sungchan is biting his lip red, index fingers curling around his belt loops with Sungchan's newfound consent and mutual, impatient interest. "I kinda want to mess your pants up a bit more, since, you know, I kind of already did it. I like to finish what I start." 

"You _did_ seem determined," Sungchan lets out a strained chuckle, finding new sense in Donghyuck's prior eagerness and the boldness to twist his fingers on Donghyuck's crisp, black dress shirt, letting the realisation of whatever is happening to him sink in while he feels Donghyuck warm under his fingertips. "It was kinda hot."

"Kinda? Choking-on-corn-soup kind of hot isn't a "kinda" thing," Donghyuck counters with deft fingers dealing with Sungchan's fly and a raise of the eyebrow. Sungchan feels himself sliding against the door, his converse gliding on the tiled floor and bringing him at almost eye-level with the cause of his crave, who is now leaning in to press the hot lips Sungchan spent his whole date thinking about on his jugular for a wet, burning kiss. 

"Scratch the kinda," Sungchan mutters, common sense along with every thought about his waiting date tied up and locked in the back of his skull like an unfortunate hostage, his warm breath mingling with Donghyuck's in the minimal space between their lips. 

"Scratch everything else too," are Donghyuck's last words before he closes the frustrating gap himself, _finally_ doing the thing they have both been tiptoeing around all evening. Suddenly Sungchan's space is filled with Donghyuck; Donghyuck's cologne — sweet and spicy too but in a way much, _much_ more appealing to him than any other — Donghyuck's hands slipping under Sungchan's sweater, curious, greedy, pressing on his toned stomach and sides with an urgency that hints it's not enough, Donghyuck's tongue in Sungchan's mouth eliciting the smallest, whiny sounds only for them to hear. 

Sungchan can't keep his hands on himself any longer either, aiming for every little spot of Donghyuck's body he needs for his puzzle picture to be complete — his large palms cupping Donghyuck's ass like it will be the last time they will get to do it, fingers untucking his shirt on the small of his back just for his nails to graze on tanned, dimpled skin and teeth finding out what it is like to have a taste of the _real_ cherries right from the source. He bites them red himself and when he backs away for air admires his own work in awe, the picture, _now_ full and whole, to frame, to save, to burn into his gay, little brain and never, _ever_ forget. 

"I wanna stay here and do a _whole_ lot more than kissing your brains out but, as I said," Donghyuck pauses only to slip a hand under Sungchan's still wet pants and palm his now fully hard cock over his even wetter underwear, "we don't have much time." 

If the heel of Donghyuck's palm right where Sungchan needed him all along feels like a punch in the lungs, his fingers around his shaft, a precome-slick tight ring that tugs on Sungchan's cock fast and steady as Donghyuck's lips bruise the skin of Sungchan's collarbone where nobody except for him will know feels like a full-body slam against his own, knocking him out, sending stars to the backs of his eyes. His knees buckle even more under the weight of pleasure and he has to push himself back, scramble to stand straight, knot a fist around Donghyuck's tie to find his footing just to experience the best handjob of his life. 

Donghyuck chuckles against his skin and it's sweet and short, almost sounds endeared, but when it's followed by the drag of teeth on his sternum Sungchan can't bring himself to think about Donghyuck's hidden intentions; not when everything he has in his plate is already too much to digest. Even so, he takes what Donghyuck gives him, little moans slipping out of his bitten lips and hiding in the fluff of Donghyuck's hair, muffled and absolutely delicious. 

"Lemme—," he tries, pressing his forehead on the crown of Donghyuck's hair, taking a moment just to regain control of his hands and blink the lustful blur out of his eyes. "Lemme do it too. You need to—" 

"I don't," Donghyuck cuts him off with startling calmness, save the raggedness of his breathing. His grip around Sungchan's cock becomes even firmer, the jerk of his fingers even filthier, wetter when he swipes a digit over the slit just for precome to make the slide easier and bring Sungchan closer to the edge. He can feel him hard against his hipbone and it makes his mouth water, hands itching to _grab,_ to cause something, _anything_ to just break on Donghyuck's pretty face. 

"W—why not? I want to," he tries again, desperate, a little louder than a whisper in the public, confined space. He wouldn't put his finger on it but people have come and gone by the time Donghyuck locked them in and if they have, then there is no mistaking that they _know_ what Donghyuck is doing to him. It makes his cock twitch in the boy's hold and him to knowingly smile against his skin and Sungchan feels himself getting closer and closer to giving in, to making a mess out of himself in a way that he will never regret.

"I feel sleepy after I come," Donghyuck reasons, a twist of the wrist and the palm sending Sungchan into a lascivious spiral. "And if I doze off, Kun—," he stops for a kiss on Sungchan's parted lips, "Kun will kill me."

"K—Kun?"

"My boss," Donghyuck adds while his fingers sneak under Sungchan's sweater again, this time with a purpose — the press and rub of his thumb on Sungchan's nipple, the bud sensitive and the cause of the moaning mess Sungchan makes. "He is nice—fuck, you sound so good, _fuck—_ he is nice, until he isn't." 

Sungchan gets it; he really _does,_ but Donghyuck's fingers snap once, twice, _thrice_ around his cock and his lips are suddenly right next to his ear with Sungchan's fingers laced in his hair and the last thing he hears is a raspy, saccharine, _lewd_ "come on, _baby,_ come _on"_ making his body tingle before he comes, spilling white and thick and perfect right in Donghyuck's fist, who finishes what he started like he wanted.

"I don't really have pants to give you, you know," Donghyuck brings the forgotten, elephant-esque reason why they left in the first place back in the room with an amused huff of a laugh, while Sungchan is still going through the longest post-orgasm bliss he has ever felt, offering Donghyuck the only thing he can without sounding like a complete idiot: a thumbs up and a smile. It seems to be enough for Donghyuck to understand more than Sungchan intended to show, because after wiping the cum off his hand, Donghyuck helps him back in his pants as well, neatly buttoning it and patting his sweater crease-free, giving an adoring, proud kiss on the purple mark he sucked on Sungchan's chest himself minutes ago, a pat on the back for his good job. 

"Lemme do that myself at the very least," Sungchan pouts and leans in for a proper kiss, deepening it for a few seconds just to feel Donghyuck close, a reward and a thanks of his own for the boy that gave him a messy orgasm to remember and a pair of messed up pants to match. 

When they're out of the stall and after a needed self checkout on the mirror just to ruffle the fucked-out-ness out of their hair, Donghyuck fishes his notepad out of his vest's pocket and flicks it open on an empty page, the pen's cap between his kissed until turned red lips while his hand is quickly scribbling something on the lined paper. 

Sungchan's curiosity grows when Donghyuck tears the page off the spiral and slips it in Sungchan's pocket, securing it without letting him read whatever it is he wrote on it in such a hurry. 

"Don't read it until you're alone. Oh, and call, if that's after twelve. I'll be off by then. Now take off your pants and do as I say, if you don't want her to slap all that mochi she ordered all over your face."

And it's indeed mochi, what Yeojin ordered, Sungchan walking out of the restaurant in Donghyuck's above-the-ankle length slacks on his long, _long_ legs for days and with Donghyuck's number in his pocket, takeout box in hand and the silent promise for another date he had left floating in the air before now completely vanished. 

Sungchan worries about it a bit — worries about her, about his sister, about the ruined date he won't be able to scratch off his record, a looming threat for all his dates to come. There is one thing he doesn't worry about, though.

The pants may be too short on him, too tight, but it matters to nobody when they meet the floor of Donghyuck's apartment, along with his sake and cum stained jeans from before later that night. 

**Author's Note:**

> u can always find me [here](https://twitter.com/yeekiies) !!


End file.
